


Boys do it better

by DaddyFuckinLongLegs



Series: MacCready/Nate [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, f-slur, playfighting, semi-public, well the gay kind at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 19:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20314912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaddyFuckinLongLegs/pseuds/DaddyFuckinLongLegs
Summary: MacCready's heard a thing or two about guys getting up to no good with other guys, but it's not his jam. Is it?





	1. 1

The bottles clacked together, Nate gripping the necks between his fingers and swinging them loosely at his hip, pulling a pack of smokes from his shirt pocket with his spare hand. He held them out, and MacCready took one, jamming it drunkenly in the corner of his mouth and kicking his feet up onto the table, knocking his empty bottle rolling across the floor.  
  
“What's with 'em anyway? So damned certain they're the ones gonna save the world.” He lit up and spat away a loose strand of tobacco. “Can't even take a joke.”  
  
“Yeah, well, maybe your sense of humour is just a little more...” Nate paused, searching for a more diplomatic word, “juvenile than what they're used to.”  
  
MacCready looked outraged.  
  
“It was funny! You fuc- you fricken laughed, didn't you? They're just sore because they're stuck in around all that... pre-war junk all the time. Hardly nothin' worth saving, you ask me.”  
  
Nate shook his head.  
  
“Except comic books, huh? Evidently not grammar. Or table manners.”  
  
Nate shoved MacCready's feet to the floor, setting the fresh bottles in front of them on the small table, and Mac glared at Nate, eye contact ferocious as he put his feet back on the table.  
  
“No. Especially not table manners.”  
  
Nate laughed and took a drink.  
  
“What about me? Pre-war junk or priceless antique?”  
  
“Alright, smartass. You're just as bad of a hoarder as they are. And some of the shit you-”

“Language.” Nate interjected.  
  
“...some of the trash you've got in your pockets?” He shook his head, “What're you gonna do with it all?”  
  
Nate shrugged. “Crack it apart, save what's useful. Sell the rest. You want me to keep paying you, the caps've gotta come from somewhere.”  
  
“Yeah, well, as long as you keep 'em coming.” He grumbled, and took a long drag on his cigarette, sighing noisily.  
  
  
“Mac, you've got a hell of a bee in your bonnet about this. Just let it slide.”  
  
“It was funny, man. That Danse guy just can't see it.”  
  
Nate arched his eyebrow. “You sore because he called you an asshole, or sore because you don't get to play with their toys?”  
  
“If he'd called me an “asshole” straight up, I'd be less mad. He talked to me like some stupid kid who can't tell his ass from his elbow. I'm the best damn shot this side of the glowing sea.”  
  
He smoked furiously, jaw clamped shut, puffing smoke through his teeth. Nate patted MacCready's knee, and leaned back in his chair.  
  
“You'll get another shot, Mac, but you gotta let go of it for now. We're doing okay for ourselves, right?”  
  
He sipped his beer, and MacCready begrudgingly nodded.  
  
  
“Anyway,” Nate gestured at MacCready, “you think hauling my shit around is bad? You ever tried walking in power armour? All that suspension is for impact, only good when you're jumping off buildings or punching someone; the suit is dead weight unless you know what you're doing. And no offence, but you're a little short for the standard regulation gear. I mean I don't know what the brotherhood are running with, but... before the bombs, you'd have needed some heavy mods to make it work for you, and it's a pain in the ass to keep up to that maintenance.”  
  
MacCready stubbed out his tab, drawing another one from the pack and lighting it up.  
  
“Mmm.”  
  
“Plus you'd have to be less of a jerk about doing what you're told.”  
  
“Well if you didn't ask me to do such pointless shit in the fi-”  
  
“Language.”  
  
Mac rolled his eyes. “Suck my dick, Nate. I'm letting off steam, okay?”  
  
Nate tutted.  
  
“Can't even stick to your own rules. No wonder they didn't want you.”  
  
MacCready slammed his beer to the table and stood up, flicking the peak of his cap out of his eyes.  
  
“Do you wanna go, asshole?”  
  
Nate laughed into his beer and stood up, adjusting his belt around his hips.  
  
“You wanna take it outside, son, or just get your ass kicked in the sitting room?”  
  
MacCready sputtered with laughter as Nate downed his beer and put up his dukes, hopping around on his toes and miming a left hook. He adjusted his pants, flicked his cigarette away and squared up, grinning and looking Nate dead in the eye.  
  
“Bite me, vault-tech.”  
  
MacCready swung for Nate's face; Nate ducked under his arm and rammed his shoulder into the merc's chest, knocking him back a step, but his arm locked around Nate's neck and his other hand punched Nate hard in the stomach. Nate wheezed and grabbed the back of MacCready's pants, fumbling at the hem and yanking the seam up between his ass cheeks. Mac yelped and laughed, and Nate swiped his legs out from under him, grappling him roughly to floor, knocking his cap flying. MacCready's knee came up between Nate's thighs, slamming into his groin hard enough to wind him.  
  
Nate reeled and bent double, whining and clutching his balls with one hand, trying to keep MacCready pinned with his shoulder and thigh, but the merc wriggled free and hooked his arm around Nate's neck again. Nate opened his mouth and bit down hard on MacCready's hand.  
  
“Ow! You son-of-a-bitch!”  
  
Mac pulled his hand back fast, grabbing Nate with his knees. Nate curled up, rubbing tears from his eyes with the crook of his elbow, and winced;  
  
“You asked for it. And you kicked me in the nuts, you little bastard!”  
  
“You tried to fuckin' _wedgie_ me, man.”  
  
Nate laughed thinly, gathering his breath, resting his forehead on MacCready's stomach.  
  
“Woulda worked if you wore any underwear.” he panted, “You dirty fuck.”  
  
“Hey, I grew up with like, twenty other kids, you learn how to avoid that shit.”  
  
Nate sucked air thirstily, quelling the ache in his stomach and letting his shoulders drop onto MacCready's hips, closing his eyes. MacCready looked down, grinning.  
  
“While you're down there...”  
  
Nate grunted and sat up fast, propping his weight on one arm, and grabbed at MacCready's crotch. The merc recoiled, snapping his knees inwards under Nate's shoulders, and pulling his ass away, startled, but Nate grinned and held fast; not painfully hard, but fingers digging firmly into his soft organs.  
  
“Woah, boss, I wasn't serious...”  
  
Nate let go and tutted. 'Course not; you're all talk, aren't you?”  
  
Mac shook his head slowly, biting his lip, eyes flaring with playful annoyance. “Okay. Do it then. Dare ya.”  
  
Nate raised his eyebrows and dropped to his elbows, chest still pressed between MacCready's legs, running a hand through his hair. He looked up at Mac and pursed his lips in thought.  
  
“What's the matter, you chickenshit?” MacCready laughed.  
  
  
Nate tucked his fingers under MacCready's belt and tugged his pants down over his hips. Mac shuffled nervously and tried to pull away, laughing and slamming his hands up under Nate's shoulders. Nate pressed down hard, digging his elbows into the floor.  
  
“Y'know son, this might do you some good. So damned pent up and mad all the time, you oughtta let someone take a load off your mind.”  
  
He grinned and MacCready laughed, kicking his feet and squirming as his waistband slipped down over the top of his pubic hair.  
  
“Okay man, enough, you some kinda faggot or something?”  
  
  
Nate's shoulders dropped suddenly, and he let go, sighing, rolling off MacCready. Mac froze. Nate got slowly to his feet and adjusted his shirt, turning away and picking up his fresh beer. He mumbled, almost to himself.  
  
“Here I was thinking we'd forgotten that one.”  
  
He stepped over to the kitchen counter and opened the bottle on the lip of the unit, the bottlecap pinging into the air and clattering to the floor near his feet. Mac sat up and picked it up, holding it out to Nate. Nate shook his head, not looking at MacCready.  
  
“Keep it. I'm gonna turn in.”  
  
MacCready's stomach sank.  
  
“Nate, man, it was a joke. C'mon, don't-”  
  
“Good night MacCready.”


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably gonna come back and tidy this chapter up in a while.

MacCready couldn't sleep. He'd thrown his sleeping bag over the sofa, leaving Nate to the dilapidated mattress in the other room, and though it was a cool night, and the sofa was comfortable, his skin felt hot and sensitive. He'd finished the last of the beer in the crate, and swallowed the contents of a hip flask he had squirrelled in his pack, but he was restless, stretched out across the sofa on his back, and his mind wouldn't stop ticking over the last ten minutes of what had happened with Nate.  
  
_What a god-damn stupid thing to say. Man, why'd you even push that button? You were worried about it, you coulda asked him some other time, and not thrown it at him like a handful of shit while you were dicking around and having fun._  
  
He turned onto his side, flinging his arm across his face.  
  
_And you're not even worried about it anyway, you're just a touchy asshole who's gotta be the big guy all the time. Fuck, just grow up. Grow up and go apologise._  
  
He sat up.  
  
_Yeah. Apologise. Get off your ass and go say you're sorry._  
  
  
He swung his legs off the sofa and leaned on his knees, trying to untangle himself from the sleeping bag. When he'd worked his feet free he stumbled across the room, leaving his shirt and belt on the floor where he'd ditched them, holding his pants up with his fist bunched in the front of the fabric. He could hear Nate snoring from the back room, and he took a deep breath, then knocked loudly on the wall.  
  
“Nate? Hey, Nate?”  
  
Nothing. The other man's snoring softened, but he was still asleep, chest rising and falling evenly. MacCready swallowed, and leaned over the mattress, dropping quietly to his knees, swaying a little. He reached out for Nate's shoulder, grasping it firmly, and Nate jerked awake, grabbing his wrist and pulling a flick knife from beside him. MacCready's hands flew to his head.  
  
“Woah, man, woah, sorry! It's me!”  
  
Nate sighed heavily and rolled away, dropping the knife.  
  
“Fuck's sake MacCready, what're you doing?”  
  
MacCready swallowed sheepishly, looking at the floor.  
  
“I... I wanted to... it feels stupid now, but I wanted to say sorry.”  
  
Nate sighed again. “Sure. Apology accepted. Now go to sleep.”  
  
MacCready knelt there, not moving.  
  
“Umm. I don't wanna... I want you to trust me, boss, I don't want you to think I've got, y'know, a problem with-”  
  
“MacCready, go to sleep.” Nate's voice was stern, louder than before.  
  
“No man, really, I didn't mean anything by it, I was just goofin' around. I don't care if you're a...”  
  
Nate rolled over and glared at him.  
  
“If I'm a what?”  
  
MacCready gulped. “Uhh... I mean...”  
  
“Mac, you're drunk. This isn't the time. Go to sleep.”  
  
“I...okay. I'm sorry. Really.” He touched Nate's shoulder again, gently. “I am.”  
  
MacCready stood up, slowly, leaning against the wall for balance. He turned and left the room, more frustrated than relieved, and grabbed the pack of cigarettes from the kitchen counter, pulling one out and fumbling to light it. He fell back onto the sofa, shoulders hunched, and smoked, quietly resentful that Nate hadn't let him talk it over. He finished the cigarette, and lit another, and then another, and then another, and then the sun was prickling at the empty windows.  
  
He grabbed his rifle and slung his boots on, stomping out into the pale air and stalking the perimeter of the shack, half hoping a radstag or feral would amble through the trees and give him an excuse to shoot something. It didn't. Nothing did. Only the sunlight picking its way through the branches and sliding across the tarmac.  
  
  
The morning rolled around silently, and MacCready skulked back into the house, flopping down on the couch only a few minutes before Nate came into the room, half dressed and ruffling his hair into place. He set to boiling a pan of water over the small stove in the corner, and looked over at MacCready, sighing.  
  
“Mac, for god's sake... Did you sleep at all last night?”  
  
Mac raised an eyebrow, his eyelids heavy. “Maybe a half hour somewhere.”  
  
“Christ MacCready, what're you... Go lie down, you dumbass.”  
  
“I'll be fine, we can just press on til Diamond Ci-”  
  
“Mac,” Nate squatted at the foot of the sofa and rolled the sleeping bag into a bundle, “We can't do shit if you haven't slept. I don't pay you to be sleep deprived and sloppy, now stop your bitching and go lie down.”  
  
MacCready's eyes had fallen shut somewhere without him noticing, and he opened them again with difficulty, looking at Nate.  
  
“What're you gonna do while I'm out, huh? Play house and sweep the floor?”  
  
Nate took a deep breath and stood up, wandering back to the stove.  
  
“Honestly, I'm probably gonna take a shit, make some coffee, and jerk off. Not even at the same time. What a fuckin' luxury huh? You've got a least an hour and a half.”  
  
MacCready smiled sleepily, eyelids drooping again. “Good to know.”  
  
Nate kicked MacCready's feet. “Hey! Bed, now.”  
  
“Sure thing. You're the boss.”  
  
Mac rolled off the sofa and tumbled towards the other room on leaden feet, hitting the mattress hard, half pulling off his boots and curling into a ball, falling asleep almost instantly.

  
He woke up to the smell of hot wires and the crackle of a radio; he climbed to his feet and leaned through the doorway, better rested than he expected. Nate was crouched over a bunch of what looked like scaffolding, threading wires through the bars.  
  
“Afternoon princess. How're you feeling?”  
  
MacCready's face scrunched up as he looked at Nate's project.  
  
“What the hell is that?”  
  
Nate stood and wiped his hands on his pants.  
  
“It's a radio beacon. Preston showed me how to set one up, and there's a couple more little buildings around here, one of them's a workshop of sorts. Figured it's as good a place as any for some folks to live. And it gave me something useful to do while you caught up on your beauty sleep.”  
  
MacCready smiled lopsidedly.  
  
“Thought you were having a luxurious jerk off?”  
  
Nate laughed. “I did my best, but it turns out nine hours is a little too luxurious.”  
  
“_Nine hours_?” He rubbed his chin, scratching at the short hairs. “I don't think I've had that much sleep since Du- since I was a kid. I guess I owe you one.”  
  
“Yeah yeah.” Nate shrugged. “Don't take it personally. You're not worth much on the road with your eyes shut, no matter how good your aim is.”  
  
Mac cleared his throat.  
  
“Uhm. I think I owe you something else actually. So, uhh, last night...”  
  
Nate's shoulders tensed, and MacCready tried to speed up his train of thought.  
  
“So last night I was a jerk. I just wanna say I'm-”  
  
“Yeah. Okay. You said this last night.”  
  
MacCready's cheeks reddened, “I'll- I'll keep my mouth shut. I don't want you to think...”  
  
Nate dropped the wire and looked at MacCready.  
  
“Look, here's the deal. I don't wanna talk about it again. Ever. You just mind your own, and I'll mind mine.”  
  
MacCready nodded solemnly. Nate sighed, looking him up and down.  
  
“Get dressed. And gimme a hand with this.”


	3. 3 - Smut!

Four days later, around the back of the Lean-To flophouse in Sanctuary Hills, after a half bottle of scotch and four beers between them, MacCready extended his last cigarette to Nate.  
  
“So... I gotta ask you something.” he said, rolling his head to the side. Nate took the tab from the packet, lighting it and taking a slow drag.  
  
“Go on.”  
  
“Are you... so I know you had a wife, and a kid, so... I just... are you actually into guys?”

Nate scuffed his shoe into the mud and clenched his jaw.  
  
“I thought we covered this. You forget that part about”mind your own”, or-”  
  
MacCready raised his hands apologetically; “Hear me out, hear me out. Please?”  
  
Nate inhaled slowly through his nose.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I just been thinking about it. Don't meet many folks that way out here. I mean John Hancock puts in anyone who's game, but I don't think I ever met- ”  
  
Nate shook his head, pinching the cigarette in the corner of his mouth as he spoke.  
  
“Well, that just isn't true. I think you just don't know where to look.”  
  
“No?” MacCready looked at him, eyebrows raised and hands in his duster pockets, gripping the neck of a bottle of Gwinnett with his pinky and ring finger.  
  
“No. Preston and Sturges? You don't see that? Irma and Amari? That guy Mel,with all the robots? Kent Connolley? Come one, you've gotta see that one.”  
  
MacCready looked stunned. “I... I guess, yeah.” His fingers scratched at his beard, rasping softly.  
  
“I guess you're right. Maybe I'm just not paying attention.”  
  
He paused, thinking quietly.  
  
“So I got to thinking last night. I heard that... well, someone once told me... is it better?”  
  
Nate rolled his eyes and laughed dryly, taking another pull of the cigarette.  
  
“Where'd you hear that one?”  
  
“There was this one guy, back in DC, who I knew for a while. He said he'd only done it with a girl twice, but-”  
  
“There's your problem.” Nate exhaled, passing the cigarette back to MacCready. “Only twice. Twice isn't enough to know what you like, never mind anyone else. And if it was the same girl, and she'd only done it with him...”  
  
MacCready laughed, coughing smoke and clearing his throat.  
  
“So that's a no?”  
  
Nate flicked a glance at MacCready. “You ever tried it?”  
  
“Hah! No.”  
  
Nate stood silent for a moment, holding Mac's eyes, watching a tide of colour creeping up his neck. A sly little half smile played at the corner of his mouth, and Nate prodded again.  
  
“You ever thought about trying it?”  
  
Mac's cheeks flushed.  
  
“What, me? Uh, no. No.”  
  
Nate smiled. “You're thinking about it now though. Look at you, you're red as the rocket on the truck stop. I'm not coming on to you, y'know, I'm just asking.”  
MacCready laughed and shook his head.  
  
“I dunno man. I'm sure I got some complicated feelings in here somewhere, if I root around a little, but I think on this one, it's just grizzly curiosity.”  
  
“Grizzly, huh?” Nat leaned his arm high on the wall, almost above the merc's head, “Never counted myself as much of a bear. Never could grow a real beard.”  
  
Mac narrowed his eyes, confused; “What?”  
  
“Doesn't matter.”  
  
They stood quietly for a moment looking off into the distance. The silence pulled taught between them, and MacCready leaned back against the shack wall, finishing the cigarette and flicking it away into the bushes.  
  
“What's it like?”  
  
“Why, you interested?” Nate grinned and shook his head. “No different from anything else. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad. Depends on what you're looking for. And who you get it from.”  
  
MacCready nodded, thinking hard. His eyes flicked to Nate, and back to the floor. And back to Nate, then to the safety of his beer. “Mmm. Been a long time since I got it from anyone.”  
  
“You and me both.”  
  
They laughed, and MacCready lifted the warm beer to his lips. Nate watched, more closely than he meant to, and took a deep breath, a hazy rush bubbling up in his chest. He leaned in closer to Mac, resting his hand on the merc's shoulder.  
  
“Look, if...” He licked his lips, thinking carefully, “it's not exactly a... professional offer, that I'm extending here, you're not obliged to take it. But-”  
  
MacCready shuffled uncomfortably, trying not to look at Nate.  
  
“I thought you just said you weren't coming on to me?”  
  
Nate looked down at his feet, then shifted his weight to face MacCready.  
  
“I'm not, exactly. But if you're... Look, if it's been a while for both of us, and I'm not making any promises here, but... if you wanted to...”  
  
“Wha-what exactly are you getting at, exactly?” MacCready stammered.  
  
His heart knocked at the inside of his ribs; he knew exactly what Nate was getting at, exactly, and his balls prickled with heat in his pants. His hand had already strayed from his pocket, and was leaned against the older man's chest. Nate rolled his hips up close to MacCready, and Mac gripped the leather of Nate's jacket, fingers tense and white with pressure.  
  
Nate ran his hand up MacCready's jaw, rough stubble under his fingers, soft skin beneath that, and pulled their faces together. His breath smelled of whiskey and stale tobacco, and this close MacCready could smell the sharpness of his sweat – guy was nervous as hell, and MacCready's heart jumped in his chest.  
  
“I know we're drunk.” Nate's voice dipped low, “I know it's probably a stupid thing to do...”  
  
He pushed his knee gently between MacCready's thighs, and to Mac's surprise, his legs parted, letting Nate press close to him.  
  
“...and I don't want you to think... well, this isn't what I'm paying you for.”  
  
MacCready shuddered and laughed quietly at himself. Nate smiled and wrapped his long fingers around MacCready's hip, playing with his belt, and Mac   
wriggled pleasingly beneath him.  
  
“Unless you'd like that?”  
  
Mac snorted nervously and Nate's eyes searched his face, smiling mischievously.  
  
“That how you want to do this? That your thing?”  
  
“I dunno, boss...” MacCready laughed. “This is...”  
  
He trailed off, and Nate nodded. “Okay. Take your time.”  
  
Nate pressed his lips gently at the corner of MacCready's mouth, and MacCready's breath quickened; he turned his head, pulled Nate's mouth to his, and oh, shit, this was what he wanted. Nate's mouth was so warm, his tongue tested softly at the opening of MacCready's mouth, grazing against his teeth, taking his time as MacCready melted back against the wall and fell into the kiss.  
  
Mac lifted his arm around Nate's neck, still clinging loosely to the beer bottle, and Nate's hands slid down his sides, into his coat, tugged his shirt from his pants and slipped underneath. His fingers were cold, and MacCready shivered; Nate pulled back, breaking their mouths apart for a moment, conscious that he was getting carried away, his dick hard and heart racing.  
  
“You okay?” He whispered, thumb tracing the bumps and ridges of MacCready's ribs. Mac nodded silently. Nate pressed his hips against MacCready, flicking over the merc's small nipple with the pad of his thumb, grinding into him gently; he felt the soft weight of MacCready's junk against his pubic bone, and a ripple ran through him, up his spine and down his thighs.  
  
He pressed his mouth to MacCready's throat, biting softly and running his mouth over the merc's skin, whispering in his ear, the thick combination of lust and drink slurring his words together so slightly,.  
  
“I can feel you getting hard, Mac; you like this? Want me to blow you?” He dropped one hand to the merc's pants, shimmying under the fabric of his waistband and closing a cold fist around his cock, squeezing gently.  
  
“What d'you think? You wanna put it in my mouth?”  
  
MacCready nodded, biting his lip with his eyes screwed shut. Nate grinned against his throat, and dropped lightly to his knees, fingers working MacCready's belt open. Mac looked down, eyes wide in horror;  
  
“_Here?!_”  
  
Nate shot to his feet again, quickly wrapping his hand over MacCready's mouth and laughing quietly.  
  
“Shhh. Not so loud, Mac. Unless you like an audience.”  
  
MacCready gasped silently, as he knelt down again, tugging Mac's pants down to his knees and kissing the join of his thighs, running his tongue along the groove of his hip, his face pressed into the smell of him and picking apart his nerves with the tip of his tongue. MacCready whimpered and pulled his knees together, his dick hardening quickly, and Nate planted his hands firmly on the merc's thighs, holding him still.   
  
He tilted his head and curled the pad of his tongue up beneath MacCready's balls; Mac giggled, and sighed, Nate gently cupping one into his mouth, rolling his tongue around and sucking gently. He pulled back, and MacCready laughed and cursed under his breath, grabbing his balls and rubbing at them. Nate looked up at him, lips parted, then held out his tongue and took MacCready's dick slowly into his mouth.  
  
“Oh, shit...” MacCready cried out before he could stop himself, grabbing the back of Nate's head and biting the sleeve of his jacket. Nate tried not to laugh, concentrating on moving his mouth, slowly, tongue tracing the ridges and curves of MacCready's cock, swirling and flicking at the head, his hand softly working circles of pressure into MacCready's balls. Mac leaned his head back and shut his eyes, dropping his other hand into Nate's hair, little gasps of air bursting from his throat as Nate sucked his cock.  
  
MacCready's head swam in a tide of sensation; the cold air on his skin, the heat and soft, wet pressure of Nate's mouth, the numbing wash of alcohol drowning his nerves. Nate stayed on his knees for what seemed, to MacCready, to be hours, head bobbing slowly up and down the length of his dick, swallowing it back deep and pulling his mouth off again, letting Mac squirm and writhe, nerves firing hot, tingling tracks through his body, fingers wrapped in Nate's dark hair.  
  
Mac's stomach tensed, he held his breath; Nate slowed his movements and clamped his mouth harder, and MacCready curled forward over him, pleasure rushing through his whole body. His elbows pressed down on Nate's shoulders, the merc stood on the tips of his toes, clinging desperately to the scruff of Nate's jacket, muscles clenching tight.  
  
Nate pushed him back against the wall, digging his thumbs into the join of his hips. Mac gulped the air, his voice high and hot and whimpering in Nate's ear as he thrust against the roof of Nate's mouth.  
  
“_Ohhhh, fu-unnhh_... Oh my _god_! Shit, shit, _shit, shit, shi_-”  
  
His orgasm hit like a rock through a plate glass window, shattering him into a hundred shivering pieces, and he curled into Nate's neck, knees giving way as he filled Nate's mouth with cum. Nate tried to swallow, but couldn't hold in his laughter, and two thick, white droplets spilled over his bottom lip. He grabbed the corners of MacCready's pants, hanging open around his knees, and tugged the inside of the fabric out, wiped his mouth there, grinning up at MacCready and falling back on his ass in the mud.  
  
“Anyone ever told you you sound like a girl when you come?” Nate said, climbing back to his feet.  
  
MacCready stood for a minute, taking long, slow breaths, hand pressed at the base of his dick, face crumpled in disbelief, looking at the inside of his pants.  
  
“Man, why'd you do that? These are my only pants!”  
  
Nate laughed. “You're welcome. Ungrateful little shit.”  
  
Mac looked up at him, tugging his pants up, grimacing at the cold, sticky spot pressed against his skin. Nate slid his arm around the merc's middle, looking down at MacCready's small, flushed face, fastening his belt for him with his other hand.  
  
“How'd that feel? Answered your question?”  
  
MacCready puffed air from his cheeks, lifting his hat and wiping his brow.  
  
“I dunno, boss; might have to sleep on it. Might have to ask you a couple more questions, just to be sure, y'know?”  
  



End file.
